


if you're gonna leave, you might as well shoot me first

by MUTTLESSBREEDING



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, School Shootings, Suicide, also yes this does actually have some dylric, hey y'all this shit gets dark quick, it starts out pretty dark, it's been awhile since i've posted cuz idk, then ends with unbearable fluff, this is very bad but hey give me a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MUTTLESSBREEDING/pseuds/MUTTLESSBREEDING
Summary: Eric and Dylan's falling out starts a chain reaction.
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Original Female Character(s), Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> for some explanation:
> 
> this story has three different endings. the bad ending, neutral ending, and good ending. 
> 
> this, is the intro. how each version of the story "starts"
> 
> and lastly, hightrippy helped write most of the bad ending, but yknow their account is gone

_ There are two kinds of angry people in this world: explosive and implosive.  _

Eric wrote, sitting at his desk. He was working on an essay for his Psychology class. It was supposed to be about anger. 

_ Explosive is the kind of individual you see screaming at the cashier for not taking their coupons. Implosive is the cashier who remains quiet day after day before finally shooting up the store. _

Eric sighed, pushing away his pen and paper, writer's block hitting him in the face. He sat back, thinking about him and Dylan. 

They were both angry people, they knew it. Hell, that’s part of the reason they were planning NBK. But they were both very different in their anger. 

Eric was an explosive angry; when someone pissed him off he’d go do something dramatic whether it was punching his wall or faking his suicide.

Dylan, on the other hand, was definitely an implosive angry; when someone pissed him off he just kept quiet. Day after day after day. 

And only Eric ever saw his breakdowns. 

He’d only seen Dylan breakdown two times, and neither had been pretty. 

Eric didn't like thinking about it.

Eric was startled out of his thoughts by the soft bing that came from his computer. An AIM notification. Eric didn't need to check to know that it was Dylan.

[ **VoDKa** : hey]

[ **Rebldomakr:** hey v. whats up?]

[ **VoDKa:** nothing. can i come over? im bored]

[ **Rebldomakr:** sure but i gotta finish an essay]

[ **VoDKa:** thats chill. i just gotta get outta here.]

[ **VoDKa:** be there in 10]

[ **VoDKa signed off at 9:56 AM** ]

\-- 

Eric was half-way done with his essay when he heard Dylan thundering down the stairs, into his basement room. It took only one glance at the blonde to know that something was wrong. 

"Hey, V. You okay?" Eric looked the tallboy up-and-down, concern showing on his face.

"I’m fine." Dylan snapped, a scowl on his face. Oh geez, not this again. 

"Dylan, don't be like this. Just fucking tell me what happened before you blow a goddamn fuse." Eric crossed his arms, standing up and leaning against the wall.

Dylan huffed, kicking a random soda bottle. He was silent for a few moments, just glaring at the ground. When he finally spoke up, he sounded so angry and defeated, it caused a pang in Eric's heart that the brunette despised. 

"I just can't fucking do this anymore. The whole fucking world is against us, and I'm sick of being alive. I'm sick of existing. I'm fucking sick of being nothing more than dirt underneath all these faggots feet."

Eric had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, "yeah, well, that's why we're doing NBK. After we blow all their brains out they'll realize we're more than dirt. They'll realize that we're fucking-"

"Gods? That we're fucking Gods?" Dylan glowered, taking Eric by surprise.

"Well...yeah. Is that a fucking issue? It really shouldn't, since you're the one who fucking suggested it." Eric huffed, starting to get ticked off himself. "What's your fucking problem, Dyl?"

Dylan ran a hand through his blonde hair.  _ He had this...sort of a mane of golden hair, it was just always thick and round and...he was such a happy, precocious, buoyant child... _

"I'm just so sick of all this fucking bullshit! I'm sick of having to wait to kill myself! All for what? Just to get some revenge? Just to have our whole lives picked apart by the media after we're dead? No matter what fucking happens, we're gonna be forgotten. No matter what happens we'll never be Gods. So why try? What's the fucking point? It'd be easier to just kill ourselves."

This time, Eric didn't hide his eye-roll. "What's the fucking point? The point is to take control! The point is to do the job natural selection has failed to do-!"

"Ugh. That's all you go on about! Natural fucking selection! God Eric-"

"The fuck did you just say? Because I think you just accused me of being obsessive over something. Which is super cute, Mr. All-I-Talk-About-Is-How-Much-I-Just-Wanna-Fucking-Die! You think I'm in the wrong here? Really, Dylan? All you ever do is drink yourself into a tizzy and complain about how fucking hard your life is. Geez, Dylan, you're so fucking selfish, you know that right?" This comment seemed to push Dylan over the edge. 

Instead of answering, Dylan punched Eric right on the nose. Eric stumbled back a few paces, his hand flying to his nose, groaning. "What the fuck-" Eric managed to gasp out just before receiving another blow to the face. Then there was another. And another. And another. It didn't stop. Not even after Eric had fallen to the ground. Not even after all of Erics pleads of mercy. Hell, Eric begging Dylan to stop only seemed to make it worse, as Dylan had started kicking him in the ribs after Eric had cried out a soft: "Dyl-Dylan I'm sorry please sss-stop-!" 

Eric had learned the hard way how painful it was to be kicked in the gut by combat boots. 

Eric had no clue how long the beating lasted, everything had gone dark halfway through. 

He woke up in a hospital bed, with his mom next to him.


	2. Bad Ending (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to break the chapter up into two parts just to make it easier to digest

He woke up in a hospital bed, with his mom next to him.

\--

"You've got a broken nose and multiple broken ribs. Other than that, all you have is some bruising and you'll be all healed in no time." Dr. Huitt smiled, turning towards Kathy and going into more detail about costs and other shit Eric didn't care about.

He was too busy thinking about Dylan.  _ What a fucking faggot.  _ Eric thought, sourly. 

"When will I be able to get out of this place?" Eric had suddenly piped up. 

"Well, once you feel good enough to leave...and once you tell us who did this to you."

_ They have no clue _

Dylan must’ve fled before Kathy had come home. The fucking pussy. 

“It was Dylan!” Eric scowled, not hesitating to rat out his ex-friend. The surge of anger he felt at the realization Dylan had kicked his ass was too strong to keep quiet. Eric was so annoyed with Dylan’s shit attitude. The fact that he would stoop so low to actually physically hurt him was appalling. 

Kathy looked shocked as she realized who hurt her son. “I can’t believe Dylan did this honey. Did you guys get into a fight?” 

Eric looked down. “I don’t really wanna talk about it, mom.” He was in too much pain, emotionally and physically, to retell the day's events. 

Kathy nodded in sympathy and understanding. 

\-- 

The drive back to his house was filled with Kathy ranting about how she was going to contact Dylan’s parents right away and get to the bottom of the situation. Eric’s stomach twisted in knots as he thought about the consequences Dylan was sure to face. He knew Dylan would be absolutely pissed at him. Eric felt sick at the thought Dylan wouldn’t want to be friends anymore. Even though Dylan hurt him badly, he was the only friend he really had. Dylan was the only person who would put up with his angry rants and didn’t see him as simply the “angry, weird” kid. 

As soon as they pulled in the driveway, Eric headed down to the basement and laid on the couch. He turned slowly, painfully on his side to avoid putting pressure on his ribs and forcefully shut his eyes. He attempted to block out the sound of his mother on the phone with Dylan’s parents. He felt mildly embarrassed that his mom was fighting his battles for him. The situation really should have stayed between him and Dylan, but it was too late to go back now. 

He managed to doze off but not only fifteen minutes later was he jolted awake by the ringing of his phone. He slowly sat up and walked over to the phone, harshly picking it up.

“Hello?” He said shortly.

“Dude, I am going to fucking kill you. You told your fucking mommy that I was the one who beat you? My parents took my fucking car, computer, and I’m grounded.” 

Eric paled and felt a surge of anxiety. Dylan was really mad.

“I ended up in the fucking hospital, VoDKa. My nose and ribs are broken!” Eric replied.

“Oh no motherfucker, don’t ‘VoDKa’ me. That’s what my friends call me and we are the furthest fucking thing from friends. You didn’t even give me a fucking break or care I was upset. Never fucking speak to me again. You’re dead to me.”

The other end was silenced with a harsh click.

Eric stood in stunned silence for a second, before sinking to his knees. That was it. Once again he was fucking friendless. He knew everyone would choose Dylan over him. Just another fucking perk of being able to have friendships that last longer than two years. 

He shakily rubbed his hands over his eyes, attempting to staunch any tears that were threatening to fall. The dull ache throughout his entire body just added to his pain. He went to bed that night restless and sad.

\--

Eric rested for a few days. He spent it mostly trying to sleep off the pain and allowing himself to heal. He headed back to school after a few days, anxious as ever. School was even worse than he imagined. Dylan only looked at him to give him nasty glares. All their other friends also seemed to be avoiding Eric. Dylan sat away from him in all of their shared classes, opting to either sit by himself or a different friend. Eric felt more alone than he had in a long time. He felt like the new kid again, a feeling he prayed he would never have to experience again. 

Eric ate lunch alone in his car. The sandwich his mom had packed for him tasted stale but he choked it down anyways. He didn’t have much of an appetite but knew he should eat at least something. 

He watched a group of students playing bean bag toss in the parking lot and felt a stab of anger. It took every ounce of self-control for him to not start his car and run them all the fuck over. Fuck them for being able to enjoy a shitty school day. 

That day his final encounter with Dylan was when the last bell rang, signaling school was over. Eric quickly walked out of the classroom wanting to go home as quickly as possible. He made his way through the halls not making eye contact with anyone. He made it through the double doors that led to the parking lot and sighed in relief. It felt good to be outside, away from the masses who saw him as less than dog shit. He had his keys in his hand and was merely a few feet away from his car when he felt it. Something bounced off the back of his head and hit the ground with a slap. Then he felt another hit him again, this time right above his ass. He was in the process of turning around when he felt it hit again on his side.

He turned around and saw a group of teens standing there, all gathered around a Toyota. Dylan was in the front of the group, looking as smug as ever in his trench coat and expensive sunglasses. He recognized a few guys that were sitting on the hood of the car laughing as some of Dylan’s theater friends. Brooks and Zack stood next to Dylan laughing their asses off. Zack held an egg carton that had a few eggs missing. Eric looked down at the ground and saw the splattered eggs. The shells loudly crunched under his boots as he took a step back to avoid the mess. Yolk was smashed on his shirt and ran down the front of his body. A few student drivers noticed the scene on the way to their vehicles and stopped to watch it unfold. 

Eric was absolutely mortified. Zack picked up another egg and flung it, splattering it completely on Eric’s shoulder. Zack threw his head back laughing, finding the situation hilarious. Dylan and the others chuckled. 

Eric felt rage bubble up inside him and clenched his teeth. He couldn’t stop himself from shouting obscenities at the group. “What the fuck! Fuck you guys! What’s your fucking problem?” 

The group laughed, amused with his anger. Dylan took a step towards him. “Shut the fuck up, Eric. You know you’re not godlike. You’re a fucking whiny, short loser.” Dylan scoffed, making the insult even deeper as the angry look on Eric’s face fell, replaced with a look of utter heartbreak.

“I’m embarrassed I was ever friends with you.” Dylan finished, his eyes darkening. 

Eric’s rage dissipated. His vision began to blur as he quickly turned away from Dylan and his friends. He practically ran to his car, ignoring the way the slimy yolk spread onto the car’s interior. The crowd of students that had gathered broke up, disappointed with the lack of response from Eric. 

Eric quickly drove home, allowing his eyes to water over and tears to roll down his face. 

He hoped his parents were out so he wouldn’t have to explain, but as soon as he walked in the front door his hopes were diminished.

His mother stood in front of the oven, pulling out a pan of cookies. She smiled when he walked in but quickly frowned as she noticed his state. Tears silently dripped down his cheeks. His clothes were covered in a sticky, yellow substance. He had an expression of despair on his face. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She crossed the room and brought her hands to the sides of his face. 

Eric felt his emotions crumble again and sunk into her embrace.

“Dylan fucking hates me!”

“What honey? You guys are best friends!” Kathy said, ignoring his bad language.

“Not anymore. Dylan said he’s embarrassed he was ever friends with me. I have no one.”

“Oh Eric, it’ll be okay sweetie. Just a few more weeks until graduation and then you never have to see any of those kids again.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t make it fucking better, mom. I have no one to hang out with at prom now.”

Kathy put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s time to put more focus on the Marines now. Forget high school matters, Eric.”

Eric nodded. His mom had the right idea. Fuck Dylan and all those other people. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was gonna focus on becoming the best damn Marine ever.

\--

“I’m sorry Mr. Harris, but taking any prescribed antidepressant medication is a disqualifying factor in joining the United States Marines.” 

Eric paled. Eric tightly gripped the phone in his hand. His emotions swirled. Every fucking thing had been riding on joining the Marines. His happiness, his parents approval, his pride. He was finally gonna prove himself and succeed at something in life. It was all fucking shattered over some fucking pills which he had been forced to take. 

He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to the recruiter before slamming the phone down with a harsh click. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. He was just sad. His life was a fucking mess. Dylan still wouldn’t even look at him unless it was to insult or bully. 

He was scared to face his father. He knew his mom would act disappointed on the surface, but deep down would accept his rejection. However, Mr. Harris was a different story. He’d always see him as a reject, who only brought him disappointment. Any alternative to the military that he chose would pale in comparison in his father's eyes. 

Eric cried hard, feeling exhausted. He sunk into his mattress and contemplated what to do. He thought about ending things. He couldn’t do it anymore. His plans just never worked out. No one fucking cared about him or valued his presence. He eyed the phone. One last call to Dylan wouldn’t hurt. He had a strong feeling that’s despite Dylan’s anger at him, he would never hesitate to talk Eric down. 

Eric slowly dialed the numbers he knew by heart and waited for it to ring. Dylan answered on the third ring with a sharp “hello”.

“Hey Dylan,” Eric said lamely, trying to even out his voice to conceal that he had been crying. 

“Now why the fuck are you calling me?” Dylan answered angrily.

“I just got rejected from the Marines. Guess they don’t allow fucking happy pills.”

There was a pause on the other end before Dylan started laughing lightly.

“I fucking knew they’d reject you.”

Eric felt tears well up in his eyes and harshly blinked. 

“Dylan, I can’t fucking do this anymore.” He replied, choosing to ignore Dylan’s rude comment.

“What? Are you gonna off yourself?” Dylan said seriously.

Eric paused, unable to decide what to say. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Life is bullshit. I know I’ll be happy wherever the fuck I go.” 

Dylan sighed loudly. “Well Eric, keep this in mind,” he began in a deadpan tone “Cut vertically.”

The call ended with a harsh click from Dylan.

Eric sat there stunned. He dropped the phone, not even bothering to put it back on the hook. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks as he slowly stood up from the bed and grabbed his car keys, not even bothering to shut his bedroom door on the way out.

\--

Eric stared into the abyss of the inky, deep water. The moonlight lit up the water's surface, allowing Eric to see the slight rolling motion of the water. He looked up at the Klebold home which loomed above the pool. All the lights were off, save for the one dim backyard light on the wall near the sliding door. It was silent outside, crickets and wild animal calls could be heard in the distance. 

Eric took a deep breath and toed off his boots. He felt numb. It was a cold night, which left him gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. He stepped onto the first step of the pool entrance. The bottom of his black socks were immediately soaked with water. 

One by one Eric stepped down each step, letting the cold water envelop him. He kept walking forward until he was standing in the middle of the pool. The water was all the way up to his chin, his whole body slowing going numb from the freezing water. 

_ This is it,  _ Eric thought, and it was weirdly comforting. Final, yet still comforting. 

The 18-year old took one last look at the Klebold house, letting himself think of all those moments he spent hanging out with Dylan. 

He still remembers all those hours he had spent playing doom and watching movies with Dylan. Still remembers making his codename with the blonde and recording the basement tapes. 

Dylan had been his best friend, he had been the only person who cared enough to get to know him. 

But none of that mattered now.

Eric took one last deep breath in, and then exhaled before plummeting his body down. He swam down to the deep end of the pool, sitting at the bottom. He held his breath, looking up at the space between him and the surface. 

_ This is it _ , he thinks again, clinging to the thought. Tomorrow, Dylan will wake up and get ready for school. He will take a shower and have a small talk with his mom before going to school. Maybe he’ll notice the lack of Eric at school. Probably not.

_ How long will take for them to find my body?  _ It was a question Eric pondered for only a moment. He grimly smiled before opening his mouth and inhaling a gulp full of water. His lungs burned from the sensation and every fiber of his being screamed for air. He had to fight the urge to swim up. Instead, Eric started thrashing. 

His lungs  _ ached _ . Eric squeezed his eyes shut, the last thing he saw before doing so was the moon, altered and deranged through the lens of the disturbed water. Eric felt like he was cascading down a bottomless pit.

_ I’m dying- this is what dying is.  _ His mind was in a panic, and yet, he felt a sick sense of relief dwelling deep inside of him. Soon, this would be all over. He would leave the piss and vomit of this world and finally be free. No more being called a fag, no more having to deal with dumb, selfish fuckfaces who only take up space. No more having to trick everyone into thinking he was normal. 

No one would miss him, and it was best that way.

Eric continued to thrash, feeling overwhelmed. He just wanted it all to end, he was nearly convinced that he wouldn’t be able to handle this for much longer. Then, just when Eric thought he was going to scream; it stopped. A calmness washed over him, and he suddenly wasn’t falling anymore. He was floating. 

His lungs were filled with an air-like substance, and a smile fell upon his face. He felt his back slowly crash against the pool floor. His eyes slowly opened, though Eric didn’t even notice. He was too far gone.

_ Today I was dirty- wanted to be pretty. Tomorrow I know I’m forever dirt.  _ And with the moon shining against the dark abyss of the pool, Eric Harris closed his eyes, and never opened them again. 


	3. Bad Ending (Finish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he’s screaming, but the words are unintelligible to even him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lyrics are purposely written incorrectly.

Dylan met her in the ASU library. He was working on an English paper that was due the next day and trying to shake off a hangover when he noticed her. 

She was absolutely beautiful. She had long golden hair and enthralling dark eyes. A simple black handbag was grasped in her left hand and she wore a floral babydoll dress. She was browsing the non-fiction section and did not notice him at first. She looked up from the books and saw him staring. She gave him a friendly smile and continued browsing. Dylan couldn’t stop himself from going up to her, which was extremely out of the ordinary for him. 

He introduced himself and she reached out to shake his hand. Her name was Amanda. He was captivated. They spent nearly every day together after that. 

She understood his struggles. She had struggled with mild depression herself after moving to Arizona from Montana, leaving all her friends and family behind. Dylan didn’t let her know exactly all the struggles he faced. Namely the plans for NBK and his best friend's suicide prior to graduation. There were some things he could never allow her to know. He could imagine the way her eyes would turn away from him, how her beautiful smile would turn into a deep frown, she would be disturbed by his extreme homicidal and suicidal thoughts. The Eric situation was one of the worst things he had ever dealt with and her knowing would be unimaginable. It just felt better keeping her blissfully ignorant to that side of him. 

They began officially dating after a month. He asked her to move into a small apartment in downtown Tucson about four months into their relationship. They met each other’s parents six months into their relationship during Christmas Break. His parents loved her. They were pleasantly surprised at how normal and friendly she was. Dylan put on a smart, bookish facade to her folks. They were charmed by his intelligence and seemingly good nature. 

Dylan and Amanda had their issues. She would get a little too close to other guys at parties and he tended to drink away his problems, but at the end of the day, they were completely devoted and in love with each other. 

Things began getting extremely serious a year and a half into the relationship. He proposed to her over a romantic candle-lit dinner and she immediately accepted. They were married on May 17, 2001, nearly two years to the date of Eric’s death. 

The honeymoon phase was brief but extremely happy. The relationship took a turn for the worst after the birth of their first child, Jacob, in 2003. 

Dylan's depression and rage issues came back with a vengeance. The dreariness and boredom of everyday life drove him mad. He hated his dead-end job, he hated his ungrateful, whiny son, and every day he and Amanda seemed to be more distant. Amanda’s eyes, which he had once found captivating, seemed hard and dull. She stopped being understanding about his mental health issues and began getting frustrated when he was unenthusiastic and exhausted. 

Dylan turned to his favorite substance, vodka, to cope. He would put it in a water bottle before going to work and take swigs throughout the day. He would nurse an entire bottle while watching TV at the end of a long workday. He found himself waking up in a puddle of vomit most mornings. He attempted to hide it from Amanda but she noticed and pleaded with him to get it under control. 

The first time he hit Amanda was when she told him she was pregnant with their second child. He couldn’t contain himself. The stress and anger had been building and he completely lost it. They could barely afford and deal with one child and the thought of having another one was too much. After hitting her, he cried and begged her not to leave him. Memories of Eric and his suicide flashed in his mind. He didn’t want to lose another person due to his behavior. Amanda ultimately decided to forgive him and attempt to work on their relationship. 

Their second child, Jade, was born in 2006. Things began to look up for their little family. Dylan began attending alcohol anonymous per Amanda’s request and pushed down his anger whenever he felt the urge to hit something. 

He lived this way for years. Unknowingly to everyone else, he would have breakdowns almost every week. They were brief and almost unnoticeable but definitely were there. 

He’d get the uncontrollable urge to drive the car into oncoming traffic while taking Jacob and Jade to school. He’d go into work and get the urge to shoot everyone there, feeling excited at the thought of riddling their bodies with bullets. 

The strongest thoughts he’d have were about Amanda. She’d hug him and he’d have an itch to stab her in the back repeatedly. She’d be lying next to him in bed, her small hand grasped in his, and he’d consider smothering her with a pillow. 

The most troubling factor about these thoughts was he was not disturbed by them at all. He frequently would have the thoughts in high school. He and Eric would spend nights staying up, playing doom, and discussing the most gruesome acts imaginable. Killing people, blowing things up, and stabbing their friends was a normal topic of conversation between them. 

Dylan couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about these thoughts, enjoying the way they made him feel powerful and capable. 

He began drinking again just after Jade’s fifth birthday. He had stopped the AA meetings months ago, unknowingly to Amanda. Alcohol made him feel almost normal, besides the fact that drinking caused the thoughts to get more uncontrollable.

It was an average Wednesday night in their household when all hell broke loose. Amanda was shouting at him after finding empty vodka bottles shoved underneath the couch cushions. Jade and Jacob sat at the dinner table quietly, picking at their food. Dylan sat by them, staying silent as Amanda berated him. He felt rage slowly build up inside him and was unable to control it anymore. He harshly stood up and grabbed Amanda by the throat. She immediately ceased shouting and looked up at him fearfully. He threw her against the wall, ignoring his children’s gasps and cries of shock. He punched her three times, each time more forceful than the last. She slid down the wall, panic-stricken and in pain. Dylan left the room, racing to his stash and taking large gulps from the glass bottles. He went back to the kitchen about ten minutes later. Amanda was sitting at the table, Jacob and Jade cradled in her lap. 

She looked up at him and attempted to feign bravery. “Dylan, I am done. You just hit me in front of our children! Look at yourself!” She screamed at him. “I gonna go stay with my mother for a while. Jacob and Jade are coming with me.”

Dylan stared down at her harshly, remaining silent for a moment. The alcohol made him feel less emotional but he still felt angry from the earlier events. 

“You will not take my children from me you fucking bitch.” He spat out darkly. 

Amanda’s eyes shone with tears and she tipped her chin up, deciding to stand up to him. “They are not safe staying here with you.” 

Dylan grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly lifted her into a standing position. Jacob and Jade fell to the floor roughly, having fallen off her lap. 

“You’re not going anywhere, bitch. They’re my fucking kids and you’re my fucking wife. I will fucking hunt you down and kill you and the kids if you try to leave.” 

Amanda looked away from him and began to sob, no longer able to feign bravery. Jacob and Jade wailed loudly. Although they were young, they understood and were terrified at their father’s violent threats. 

Amanda stayed with him. She knew Dylan was serious about the threats. She avoided getting too close with him and looked the other way when he drank himself to sleep every night. Her main focus was the children. She tried her hardest to give them a normal life and avoided talking about their father's issues. She pretended to be in love with Dylan to her family and friends, but behind closed doors felt indifferent and disgusted towards the man she once loved.

Meanwhile, Dylan was spiraling. He was no longer close with anyone. His own children were terrified of him. Amanda hated him, staying only for the safety of her children. The drinking got even worse. His boss began threatening to fire him if he did not get it under control. All he could think about was his life before everything had happened. He’d give anything to go back to the beginning of senior year and spend a night in Eric’s basement. The guilt over Eric’s death that he had pushed down for so long began to resurface. He’d have vivid dreams of Eric shouting and crying at him, begging for forgiveness and friendship. He attempted to push these dreams out of his mind with more alcohol. 

March 20, 2011, was the day he snapped. The day was seemingly normal, but to Dylan, it was already shitty. He had a particularly rough dream about Eric the previous night. He was already nursing a hangover, but in a desperate attempt to chase away the dream, he choked down half a bottle of vodka. Amanda informed him he would need to take Jacob and Jade to school, as she had an early morning doctor's appointment. 

Jacob and Jade clambered into the car, unimpressed with their chaperone. Jacob began teasing Jade by lightly pulling her hair about five minutes into the drive. Dylan ignored them and focused on staying in his lane, a little tipsy from the alcohol. Jade began shouting at Jacob to stop. They began arguing loudly, adding to Dylan’s already pounding headache. 

“Shut the fuck up you two! I need to focus.” He shouted at them.

Jacob ceased shouting but Jade was resistant. 

“No! He pulled my hair! He’s mean and never gets in trouble. You let him get away with everything!” Jade began blabbering, getting more agitated with every minute.

Dylan felt anger well up inside him and roughly reached his arm into the back seat. He wrenched her arm backward and pushed her forcefully into the car seat.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!!” 

Jade sat stunned for a minute, before throwing her head back and wailing. 

Dylan was livid. “Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!” He screamed, pounding on the steering wheel. 

Jacob reached over to his sister and attempted to calm her down, scared by their father's reaction. 

Dylan swung the car into the front of the school and screamed at the kids to get the fuck out of the car.

Jade continued crying as Jacob unbuckled her and led her out of the car. 

As soon as they were out of the car, Dylan sped off driving manically home. 

Dylan was done. He decided to finish what he and Eric started. Pretending to be normal was too exhausting at this point. He hated everyone and he was tired of pretending he didn’t. In the years since high school, his rage had only increased.

He carelessly pulled into the driveway, not even bothering to shut the car off before stalking into the house. He made a beeline for the master bedroom closet. He shoved the winter clothing, shoeboxes, and storage containers aside to access one small box in the very back of the closet. It was a simple, black plastic container labeled “High School”. Amanda never went near it, knowing Dylan was sensitive about that time period of his life. Dylan opened the box and carefully removed the old school papers, yearbooks, and pictures to the side to access what was underneath. He pulled out what he was searching for. The Tec-9 he had purchased so many years ago. He quickly shoved it on the side of his pants, grabbing a few rounds as well. He picked up the loose high school papers and shoved them back into the box. A couple of stray pictures remained on the floor and he moved to pick them up. His breathing hitched when he noticed one of the photographs. Eric’s young face beamed at him through the photo, arm looped around a seventeen-year-old Dylan’s shoulders. They were positioned in front of Dylan’s old BMW and both looked incredibly happy. It was taken around Christmas 1998 judging by the snow on the ground. A wave of negative emotions crashed over Dylan. The emotions simply reaffirmed his need to get out of this life. He quickly folded the photo in half and tucked it into his pants pocket. Dylan then grabbed a black shirt with "WRATH" written in red letters out of the box. Back in high school, he and Eric had gotten custom shirts they had planned to wear on NBK. Eric's had been white, with "NATURAL SELECTION" in black lettering. But instead of shooting up Columbine in the shirts, Eric had killed himself while wearing his. Dylan finally shoved the box back into the closet. The blonde hastily changed into said shirt, before walking out of the house and unwaveringly getting into the car, headed towards the elementary school. 

Dylan drove more sensibly on his return to the school, his anger becoming a background noise, and a calm sureness taking over his thoughts. Ten minutes later, he was sitting in the parking lot of Petal Elementary. Looking at the clock, Dylan could clearly see that it was 8:23am. He stared at the front doors of the building, hand wrapping around the handle of his gun.

_ This is it,  _ Dylan thought, and it was weirdly comforting. Final, yet still comforting. 

Dylan got out of his car, shoving both his hands into his pockets as a means of further concealing his gun. 

He casually walked into the school, just as he would any other day. Just as he would if he weren’t planning on shooting the whole fucking place up. 

The blonde marched into the school’s front office, scoping the place out. He turned towards the lady who ran the front desk, giving her a small but charming smile. 

“Hi, what can I do for you today, sir?” The lady asked. She had short brunette hair and a sparkle in her hazel eyes that made Dylan want to blow her brains out. 

“Oh...I, uh...I was just wondering where the principal is?” Dylan’s voice was just above a whisper, and he hoped that he just came off as shy, not nervous. 

The brunette gave Dylan a kind smile, “Mr. Freeman is currently out at the moment. If it’s urgent, you could talk to the vice-principal, who’s only down the hall. But I could also just leave her a message on your behalf if you’d like?”

Dylan gave her a half-nod, “uh, yeah. I’ll just talk to the vice-principal. Where’s her-” Dylan took a deep breath. “Where’s her office?”

A few minutes later, Dylan was absolutely decking it down the hall. The vice principal’s office was out of sight from the main office, so Dylan had taken the opportunity to sneak away. 

He slowed down, nearing the middle of the hall. 

Dylan knew the layout of the school like the back of his hand. He had come here with Jacob and Jade to help them find their classes or to checkup with their teachers' plenty of times. 

Basically, there was one main hall. A bunch of other halls branched off from the main one. When you first walk into the school from the main front doors, all you needed to do was walk straight to get to the cafeteria. Though, if you decided to turn left halfway down the hall, you’d find yourself in the main hall. 

So that’s what he did. He walked slowly down the main hall, knowing for a fact that class was about to end. Meaning a lot of classes, including Jade’s and Jacob’s, would be taking a trip to a different classroom to do some sort of “fun” activity; like gym or art. 

Reaching the end of the hall, Dylan leaned his back against the wall, deciding to wait.

A few moments later, a bell went off, the sound of it reverberating through the empty, barren hall. 

Dylan checked the clock on the wall. 8:30am. 

_ This is it _ , he thinks again, clinging to the thought. Soon, students of almost all ages will be crowding the halls, following their teachers like ducklings to a mother. Soon all hell would break loose, and it would be all his fault. 

It was the sound of little children talking and laughing loudly that snapped him out of his thoughts. His grasp on his TEC-9 tightened. 

He took a sharp left turn, towards both Jade’s and Jacob’s classrooms, a sudden  _ need  _ spreading through his body. At the end of the hall, Dylan could see a few kids peering around the corner - waiting for their teacher’s permission to start walking. One of the kids Dylan immediately recognized as his own baby girl, Jade, who looked absolutely mortified to see her  _ loving  _ father walk slowly towards her and the rest of her classmates. 

“D-daddy?” Jade whispered just loud enough for him to hear as he approached them. Dylan gave her a sick smile, excitement sparking deep within him. He looked around, only to see a hallway full of distracted children. There didn’t seem to be an adult supervising them at the moment.

_ Well, ain’t that lucky?  _ Dylan thought, amused. He pondered over where the teacher could even possibly be (were they still in the classroom - grabbing something real quick? Or maybe they were off hiding in the staff lounge for a short coffee break?) 

Dylan didn’t plan on waiting long enough to find out. 

There was a rush of adrenaline as Dylan pulled the gun from his pocket. The few kids that had taken notice of his presence now stared at him in fear. Jade merely looked at him, a look of finality in her eyes. As if she had known this was what was going to happen all along. Dylan wished he could pity her, along with the rest of her peers, but he couldn’t. The most he could muster up was a moment of contemptuous contemplation. 

Dylan leaned down, eye level to Jade, and just to make things more fun, he whispered: “run.” And that’s exactly what they did.

Jade grabbed the hand of the kid next to her, running past Dylan. Dylan watched as the students collectively skittered past him, like cockroaches hiding from light. 

Dylan pointed his gun at the fleeting children, only taking a few moments to aim before firing. He shot a few rounds, most of the bullets either rickashaying off a locker or missing a target entirely. He watched as only a few students fell, screams echoing through the halls. 

“D-daddy?” This time it wasn’t Jade stuttering out the term. Dylan turned sharply on his heel to see Jacob peeking his head out of the doorway of his classroom. Just like Jade’s class, the teacher seemed to be nowhere. The caring father in him was almost pissed off at the display of unprofessionalism coming from the teachers.  _ For fucks sake, you’re leaving a bunch of little fucking kids alone! _

But of course, in the end, Dylan didn’t really care. It just made his job easier. 

“Jacob, where is your teacher?” Dylan asked, weirdly calm considering the circumstances. 

“S-she had to go get something,” Unlike Jade, Jacob looked absolutely terrified. Dylan took a few slow steps towards him, before going on his knees in front of the young boy.

“Are you scared, son?” Dylan whispered menacingly, an eyebrow quirked. Jacob merely nodded, too scared to even speak by this point. 

Dylan’s face contorted into a mixed expression of anger and homicidal glee. Dylan stood back up, roughly grabbing Jacob by the back of his shirt, and forcing his way past the child, and into the classroom. 

At a first, and lazy glance, the classroom almost looked empty. That was until Dylan looked at the teacher’s desk, which was located near the back of the room, where piles of hiding children appeared in his line of view. It seems they were trained well on how to react to a situation like the one currently taking place. 

Still dragging Jacob with him, Dylan walked over to the concealed children. Jacob thrashed and cried out while Dylan held his grip, Jacob’s friends and classmates scrambling to get up. Dylan watched as they struggled, delighted by their futile attempts, before once again lifting his gun up and taking a few shots. This time, he ended hitting most of his determined targets. 

Jacob wriggled out of his grasp while Dylan wasn’t paying attention (he was far to busy focusing on the high he was getting from kicking over desks and shooting whatever dared move). Instead of chasing him, Dylan shot his son just after the boy had exited the classroom. Dylan watched as his small, skinny frame fell face-first into the floor. 

_ And the way he fell so effortlessly, as if gravity didn’t exist, reminded Dylan of Eric. Seeing Jacob lying there, blood starting to pool around him, made Dylan realize how real everything was. Jacob looked so much like Eric the day Dylan had found him lying in his pool, dead. His hair was cut short, just like Eric’s had been, and Jacob was wearing a white shirt.  _

A white shirt that looked similar to the one Eric had been wearing when he had killed himself. 

_ No _ .

Dylan shook his head, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of Eric. 

He stepped over multiple squirming bodies, his high from earlier gone, leaving him empty. A feeling he didn’t like, so he was off to go fix that. 

Dylan exited the room, avoiding looking down at his son. He stormed over to another room, this one adjacent to the one he had currently been in. 

Trying the doorknob, Dylan quickly realized something was blocking the door. So, he kicked it open. When he did, Dylan was met with another room full of kids hiding under the teacher’s desk, but this time, the teacher was in there, too. He was standing upright, his body positioned in front of his students, a pathetic attempt at “protecting” the children. In his hand, was a phone. 

Dylan absentmindedly shot him in the chest two times. The phone fell down onto the floor, and seconds later, so did he. 

“ _ Hello? SIr? Are you still there? _ ” Dylan could hear a calm female voice emitting from the phone.  _ Fuck- he called 911.  _ It would only take the cops a few minutes to arrive. Dylan stomped on the phone with his boot, destroying it immediately. He would have to make do with the rest of the time available to him. 

Dylan dully stared at the shaking children, all of whom hadn’t yet made an attempt to run. He motioned to the door with his head, “Well, aren’t you guys going to at least try and get away? Here, why don’t I give you all a headstart.” Dylan stepped to the side, leaning his back against the whiteboard. Slowly, one of the kids got up, and after receiving a nod of approval from Dylan, dash out of the room. Seeing that Dylan had shown mercy to their peer, some of the other students started to scramble up, all of them tripping over each other in their attempt to escape. The ones who hadn’t tried to stand were still frozen in fear on the ground. 

After letting about a dozen kids exit the room, Dylan walked out, taking long strides to cover more landmass with every step. Once he was back into the hall, he blindly shot at the kids who hadn’t yet made it that far after Dylan had let them try and run. Without even looking to see how many shots hit, Dylan stormed into the next, and last classroom in the section he was in. 

Once again, the teacher was there, huddled close to her dear students. She was on the bigger side, and Dylan immediately felt disgusted by her.

Once she heard Dylan enter the room, she stood up. Her body fat jiggled as she did, and Dylan almost laughed at the absurdity of it. The teacher stared at him, a determined look on her face. 

“M-Ms. Ojeda!” Dylan heard one of the kids whimper, only to be hushed by someone else. 

Dylan brought his gun up, feeling absolutely trigger-happy. But this time, when he went to shoot - nothing came out. He felt the recoil of the gun vibrate through his arm, but he didn’t get the satisfaction of watching the fat whore in front of him fall into a pool of blood. He was out of bullets. 

Ms. Ojeda’s - or as Dylan was currently calling her: Ms. Piggy’s face contorted into a laugh, “Out of bullets- aren’t ya you fucker!” Dylan’s face fell for a moment before a look of unbridled rage slipped into his feature. 

“Shut up!” He screamed in retaliation, his body tensing up. 

Instead of responding, she lunged at him. 

Dylan stumbled back a few paces, before pushing her off of him. The smell of her potent perfume overwhelmed him, and he paused to gag, nearly throwing up at the scent. It was worse than the smell of iron wafting into the room from the hall. 

Ms. Piggy got up before Dylan could get over his nausea, and she used this to her advantage. She waddled up to Dylan and punched him in the face just as he was uprighting himself.

“Fuck!” This time, Dylan didn’t stop after getting hit, he just hit back. Using the butt of his gun, Dylan smacked her in the jaw, causing her to fall to the floor immediately. 

“Well look at that, I guess cow tipping isn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” Dylan cackled. 

Ms. Piggy hissed at him, flopping around on the floor, trying to get up, which only made Dylan laugh harder. 

She grabbed onto his leg, trying to pull him down. Dylan kicked her square in the nose, which caused a horrid shriek to be emitted from her mouth. 

But Dylan wanted more, so he kicked her again. And then he kicked again. And again. 

“DUMB FUCKING BITCH!” He kept kicking, unable to stop himself. Everything was rage. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t even process what he was doing.

He’s screaming, but the words are unintelligible to even him.

By the time Dylan calmed down, Ms. Piggy’s face was nothing more than a pulp, and her brains were smeared all over his boot. Kids were crying, probably scarred for life. 

Dylan didn’t care.

He numbly walked back into the hall. 

It was all going wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Dylan was supposed to shoot up his high school twelve years ago, with his best friend Eric Harris. They were supposed to blow up to school, then use all the fleeing students as target practice. After, Dylan was supposed to end his life with his partner in crime. The only person to ever really understand him. They were supposed to go down in history as the gods they knew they were.

Instead, Dylan was alone. Shooting up the school his whiney, ungrateful kids attended. No one understood his struggles. No one cared about him. And now, he was out of bullets. Police were outside. Dylan was without a way to kill himself, and he’s going to spend the rest of his miserable fucking life rotting in prison. Dylan collapsed onto his ass, leaning his back up against a bloodied locker. 

He looked over to his right and saw his little boy, lying face-first in a pool of his own blood. It was seeping into the carpet and would surely leave a stain so obnoxious the carpet will probably have to be removed. Dylan couldn’t remember where Jade was. Last he had seen of his daughter was after he had shot her in the shoulder. Jade had tried running away, and Dylan had no clue if his youngest was still alive. And in all honesty, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sure, Dylan could easily walk around the school and search for Jade, then after finding her smash her little head in. But Dylan was far too tired.

Years of anger and hate had suddenly seeped out of him, and Dylan just felt drained. He couldn’t bring himself to care about what’s going to happen to Amanda or feel remorseful for what he’s done. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

So, the 29-year old reached over and pulled Jacob’s lifeless body onto his lap. He cradled him in his arms and whispered a small lullaby to him. Staring into Jacob’s glazed, unseeing eyes, a few tears slipped from Dylan’s face. 

In the distance, Dylan could hear the authorities breaking in, finally. But he didn’t care. He just kept looking into his son’s eyes. Now, Dylan wasn’t weeping for the 14 lives he had just taken. He wasn’t weeping for his lost children, or out of regret. Dylan Klebold was mourning his dead best friend - whose face he could clearly see reflecting in Jacob’s eyes. 

“HE’S OVER HERE!” Dyan heard someone yell, but he didn’t bother to look up and see who. 

_ I’m so sorry, Eric. You deserved so much better.  _ A tear from his face and landed on Jacob’s cheek. As if his son was crying, too. 

_ I’m a monster. I’m a fucking monster.  _ Usually, the thought was reassuring, but at that moment it only scared Dylan. He was a monster, the type of monster who made his best friend kill himself. The type of monster that beat his wife and ruthlessly killed his children. 

And now he was going to spend the rest of his life living as a monster, one locked away from the world. Forever destined to daydream of a time that no longer existed. To wish for time back, and that things had turned out different.

Dylan felt something hit his face, and seconds later everything went black.

_ You should have seen the ratings that day. Some children died the other day. We fed machines and, then, we prayed. Puked up and down in morbid faith. You should have seen the fucking ratings that day. _


End file.
